


Lay Me Down

by pinkstrawsrawr



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-28 16:04:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkstrawsrawr/pseuds/pinkstrawsrawr
Summary: It had all started with a panic attack.





	1. How It Started

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realize this could be the origin story to my short short story "There's no place I'd rather be". Title is a Sam Smith song, just the feeling of it fit this story for me. It's a bit sad, a bit fluffy, but it will all be alright- I hope this story will warm your heart, comfort you or make you feel something. For some reason I really like the idea of Cullen being a therapist.

It all started with a panic attack. Well, something had happened before the panic attack. But it was the panic attack itself that made Dorian realize something was not quite right. He'd come home after drinks with friends per their usual Wednesday tradition, it being the middle of the week and all. A little drunk he'd watched tv in his underwear. Nothing good had been on, so it was some kind of sitcom that made him laugh along mechanically with the recorded laughs of a tv audience. And then suddenly his heart had started hammering in his chest, so hard and so quickly that he'd been gripped by panic. Was he dying? He found it hard to breathe, he started to sweat. He got up and opened the window for some air, and then more or less fell to the floor, forehead against the floor, arms around himself, chanting ”no no no” under his breath. Not like this. He didn't want to die like this. Not by himself, not in his underwear, not with the tv on some crappy sitcom. Not right after his father.

And that was it.

That was the reason for the panic attack.

And that was the reason Dorian started thinking that maybe he should start seeing someone. To talk. To get to the bottom of this ”silly business” as he was now referring to it. But first, true to himself, he put it off just a bit longer. He started dreading going home. He made plans every day after work, to go for dinner with friends, then drinks, then go out, dance all night, maybe get lucky if he was lucky and then spend the night with someone at their place, not his own. Sometimes he spent the night at work. There was quite a comfy sofa at his saloon and he had his emergency kit there. Toothbrush and all.

His friends, PartyPeople Number One, started reacting. Dorian, shouldn't you go home? How about some water for next drink, hm? _Is everything alright Dorian?_

 _Yes!_ He shouted in response. _I'm fantastic!_

 _You are_ , Friends reassured him, _But, you know, how is everything? Has something happened?_ And then someone mentioned the F word... That someone being Bull, and the F-word being Father. _Has something happened to your Father?_

 _Fuck you_. Dorian had said. _Fuck you. I knew you would use it against me someday. I just knew it_.

And when he'd lashed out at Bull of all people: good, kind, sweet, protective Bull. He knew he had to face the music and stop dancing, start trying to sleep, trying to face his dark bedroom and listen to the beating of his sad heart.


	2. The First Appointment

**The First Appointment**

Dr. Rutherford was a very attractive man though obviously completely unaware of it. His sense of style was what gave him away. Something about him screamed ”I don't do my own shopping”, maybe a wife? Girlfriend? Sister?... Or... Mother? Dorian usually didn't go for men who had less of an interest for fashion than he did, but five minutes of polite nonsense conversation he found himself fantasizing about taking Dr Rutherford shopping. The doctor had figured out his color though: blue, like his shirt, it suited him, but it was the shoes that caught Dorian's attention. Old. So old, but well cared for. Worn leather.

Dr. Rutherford had honey colored hair and amber eyes, full of sympathy and a kind of wariness, like he was used to threading lightly, which he probably was given his profession. He had a firm handshake, was about one head taller than Dorian, all broad shoulders, and a way of moving that struck Dorian as endearing. It was slightly clumsy, like a big dog puppy growing into his long legs.

And his voice. It was too bad Dorian was supposed to do most of the talking because Dr. Rutherford had a pleasant one, all smooth and at times it went surprisingly deep.

”So Dorian, what brings you here today?” Dr. Rutherford asked.

”I am not my usual self.”

”Your usual self, as in...”

”I am a very...” Dorian trailed off. ”Exhuberant person. My friends and I often go out for drinks, we have this local place... ” He realized he was already veering off track. ” _Anyways_. I had a panic attack. Maybe it was all those... Late nights. I am getting older?” He laughed to himself. ”Forgive me, of course, as much I like to deny it myself, I _know_ I am getting older. That is how life works.”

”It does seem to work that way I'm afraid”, Dr Rutherford said with a small smile. ”Though I suppose we are lucky. Some people don't have the priveligie of getting older at all.”

Dorian nodded, and felt a sudden surge of emotion go through his body, almost like he desperately needed to vomit. He cleared his throat.

”So you had a panic attack. Will you tell me about it?”

Dorian shared the story.

”What brought it on?”

”Well...”

Dorian was quiet for so long, Dr. Rutherford took the reigns.

”I take it, something has happened in your life”, Cullen said gently. ”That brought on this change in you.”

”Mm.” Dorian's fingers went up to his mustache, smothing it out. ”Yes...” His voice broke. ”Something has happened.”

”Has someone close to you passed away?”

Again, he nodded, this time without sound as he could feel his face grimacing, eyebrows painfully frowning in an attempt to meet each other, his mouth struggling to stay up in the smile he aways wore, but it was a losing battle.

Dr Rutherford handed him a tissue which Dorian thankfully accepted.

”I bet this happens to you all the time”, Dorian managed to get out in a thick gravely voice. ”People crying in front of you.”

”No, you're the first one”, Dr Rutherford said, which made Dorian laugh through his tears.

”I am sorry.”

”Don't apologize. Take your time. There's no rush.”

”Just, money by the hour right?” Dorian got out out a strangled laugh.

”When someone cries, the clock stops ticking”, Dr Rutherford said handing him another tissue.

”That's sweet, but can't very well be true”, he said, briefly glancing at Dr Rutherford through his tears, and caught the doctor in a shrewd kind of smile, so sympathetic it made him want to cry more. Instead Dorian breathed in, he breathed out, he fixed his mustache, he straightened up, he dabbed at his eyes with the second tissue, needlessly, because the eyeliner was waterproof and the most trustworthy thing in his life.

Dr Rutherford handed him a glass of water and after a sip, and a tentative smile, Dorian could speak once more without being overcome by that cascade of grief.

”I never cry”, he said and once more saw the devastatingly sympathetic look on Dr Rutherford's face. _Oh, I can't bear it,_ he thought. Rutherford seems genuinely caring. Even if he is getting paid for this. ”Lately though, I have been crying a lot. That's what I do when I don't go out with my friends. I stay in, I drink wine, I read books and listen to terrible sentimental ballads of the 80's and I cry. For hours. I have a hard time sleeping. Who knows? Maybe that is why I'm crying here, in your office. Because I'm sleep deprived. And how on earth did you know someone passed away? You're not a mindreader are you? Because I asssure you, as full of these...” Dorian paused. ”Feelings”, he said with mock disgust. ”I'm very human and I have very silly thoughts.”

”I noticed the look on your face when we spoke about getting older.”

”So you _are_ a mind reader. What am I thinking right now?”

”That you can divert me from the real conversation.”

”Touché, doctor.”

Dr. Rutherford merely smiled.

”Has anything helped you sleep in the past?”

”I need to get back on track with exercise. I should start running again. My scale will soon agree, I am sure.” Dorian caught the smile on Dr Rutherford's face. ”Yes, I am quite vain.”

”We all are to some extent”, Dr Rutherford said diplomatically.

Dorian wondered in what way the doctor was vain. Not when it came to his looks, and Dorian did not think that because the doctor was not handsome, because he was. But he did not style his hair and he had not shaved this morning, or maybe not even the day before. His clothes were ordinary, but clean and not wrinkled. A blue shirt that matched his eyes almost in a silly way, and dark pants. And of course, the well loved shoes.

”Running would probably benefit your sleep.”

Dorian looked up, he had found himself stuck on the doctor's shoes.

”I started crying while I was running, that's why I stopped. Crying in public is not my cup of tea.”

”Will you tell me what happened?”

Dorian took a deep breath and then exhaled, smiling stiffly.

”I thought I was going to cry again”, he admitted. ”But no, I managed to swallow it. Go me.” He raised his fist in a mock gesture of victory.

”It's alright if you cry.”

”Kaffas”, Dorian cursed, again accepting a tissue from Dr Rutherford. ”My father”, he spluttered finally, wiping his nose as delicately as he could, then receiving another tissue which he again dabbed at the corner of his eyes.

”What happened to him?”

”He was sick, or so I heard.”

”You weren't in contact?”

”No. No.” Dorian shook his head.

”How come?”

And Dorian who had never before had any trouble telling the world what an absolute bastard his father was found himself unable to say anything about it.

”That is a long story”, he settled on.

”When was the last time you spoke?”

”About five years ago.”

”Did you have a disagreement?”

”You could say that.”

”Will you tell me more about it?”

Dorian dabbed at his eyes, now scoffing with laughter.

”My father is, _was_ , a very conservative man. And well known in the society in which I grew up, He often said he could have forgiven practically anything, but not this. My... My....” He had lost the words. That was a first. ”My sexuality.”

”Ah”, Dr Rutherford said, closing his eyes briefly.

”Yes that old tune”, Dorian said, and now that he had gotten that out of the way, he lunged into the time his father had him kidnapped as a teen, threatened by some Tevinter thugs who roughly beat him up too, in order to ” _smack some sense into him_ ”, as they put it. ”That was it really. He'd tried to stop me before, but after that... He let me go on my way.”

”That's awful, Dorian”, Rutherford said. ”I'm so sorry.”

”Yes well.” He swallowed hard. ”At the time though I took it pretty well, I think. I was in the hospital for a long time, but the nurses were... Kind.”

”Was it unusual for you to experience kindness?”

”Yes.”

”What about your mother?”

”She used to patch me up, but she was afraid for me. Because of my father. She begged me to comply.”

”Is your mother still alive?”

”Yes. Though I fear she resents me now.”

”Why?”

”He was sick, she told me. And I did not reach out. She begged me to be the bigger man.” He shook his head.

”You were already the bigger man”, Dr Rutherford said. ”You walked away. What else could you have done? To ask you to reconcile with a man who did not want to reconcile with you, or even acknowledge you as a person, a man who had you kidnapped and beaten...”

”He did his best”, Dorian interrupted, recalling his mother's words. ”She always said so.”

Dr Rutherford was shaking his head.

”This was your _father_ , Dorian. He did not do his best and to allow yourself to think that is degrading to yourself.”

Dorian was trying not to cry again. He looked into Dr. Rutherford's eyes, very blue, like the shirt. The doctor did not shy away and Dorian found himself reassured. Nodding. He did not know what to say, but he didn't have to think of anything. Not only was silence an accepted response in Rutherford's office, but also time was running out.

”Should we schedule another appointment?” Dr Rutherford asked.

”I don't know”, Dorian said, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

”You don't think this would help you? To talk?”

”I'm not sure. I feel a bit better already, maybe today is enough.”

Dr Rutherford eyed him for a bit longer.

”Tell you what”, he said finally. ”Think about it and then let me know what you want to do. You don't have to make a decision right here right now.”

”Alright, yes, that sounds... Fine.” Dorian nodded, for what felt like the millionth time.

”And Dorian”, Dr Rutherford said, when Dorian was about to leave his office. ”You will get through this. You have already gotten through so much worse. You are a strong person and you should give yourself credit for that.”

”Yes, thank you”, Dorian said. ”May I steal another tissue from you? I am not sure I am quite done yet and I would hate to wipe on my sleeve. It's... It is an expensive shirt.”

Dr Rutherford handed him a whole stack of tissues.

”Take care of yourself Dorian. We'll talk soon.”


	3. The Second Appointment

**The Second Appointment**

”Tell me more about the dynamic between you and your father”, Dr Rutherford said. Today he was wearing a grey pullover, a white shirt sticking up by the collar. Dark pants again. His hair was slightly more tousled this time as if he'd overslept and hadn't had time to tame it. Though there were no other signs of him being sleepy. His blue eyes were clear and attentive. He probably never had trouble sleeping, Dorian thought. He imagined dr Rutherford was one of those people who fell asleep within five minutes, and rarely saw the end of any movie. Yes, he was most definitely someone who fell asleep in the sofa on a Friday night.

The thought made Dorian smile.

”Any good memories?” Dr Rutherford asked.

Dorian could not quite say he was thinking about the doctor falling asleep in a sofa, so he searched his memories for any good ones involving his father. That was hard.

”Any early memories?” Dr Rutherford tried.

”There are good early memories I suppose, but they are all tangled up with... The bad ones now.” He pauses for a moment, hesitant as to whether this is where he wants to go, but he does go there. ”When I was a kid he... He...” _Kaffas_ , here he went again. ”I don't know why this upsets me now”, Dorian got out inbetween sobs. ”But he sent me to pray-away-the-gay camps for several summers in a row. Back then...” He had to stop. ”Thank you.” He was being handed the entire box of tissues this time. ”Back then, I didn't... I just went along with everything. I wanted to get well, I wanted to be straight, to please him, to make him love me. And for years it has just irritated me when I thought about it, and now when he's... When he's passed, I'm still irritated, angry, but I am also sad and upset for...” He couldn't go on. He covered his face in tissues. The silence was deafening.

”You're sad for young Dorian”, Dr Rutherford eventually filled in, with a voice so full of sympathy, it made Dorian sob again, and nod.

 _Yes_ , yes, that was exactly it.

And how silly it felt to cry for his younger self, but in a way it made sense. He hadn't cried back then. He couldn't. Because he was busy playing a role, painfully trying to contort himself in impossible positions to fit into the mold his father had made. And in the end he'd failed. And now his father was gone and Dorian was closer to fourty, though he scarcely admitted it, crying in front of a stranger whom he was paying a bizarre amount of money per hour just to say it all out loud, finally.


	4. The Third Appointment

**The Third Appointment**

Dorian arrived early for his third appointment and had a seat in the waiting area. He started flipping through an interior decoration magazine when he heard a woman's voice cheerily saying ” _Good morning Cullen_ ”. Dorian looked up from his magazine, and saw the woman, stylish and with a brilliant smile, greet none other than Dr Rutherford who was looking slightly awkward, a take away coffee mug in his hand, but nevertheless smiling back.

”Did you have a good weekend?” the woman asked.

Now they were moving slightly out of view from Dorian, who really wanted to see the conversation, but he could hear bits and parts of it. Apparently there had been a staff party, and Dr Rutherford, or Cullen, as the woman said, because she was allowed to call him by his first name, had left early. Dorian tried to stretch his ears to hear Cullen's response. Something about a house? Right! Exclaimed the woman, loudly, _the new house_! _When will the housewarming party be?_ An awkward sounding cough and then _Once we get settled in_ , Cullen, or Dr Rutherford answered, and Dorian wondered if Dr Rutherford was in a relationship. _Nice_ , said the woman loudly again, _doggie must be in heaven with all that space_! Ah, a dog.

Of course Dr Rutherford was a dog person, it made sense. Dorian quite liked dogs himself, but the more they molted, the less he liked them. He wondered what kind of dog Cullen had. Dr Rutherford, not Cullen. Probably a golden retriever, Dorian smiled to himself, they do say dogs and owners tend to resemble each other and there is something slightly golden retrieverish about the doctor. Tall, blonde, bright eyes. Excudes friendliness, _is_ probably a great friend... Is he playful though? Dorian could picture Cullen acting silly in the kitchen, maybe some pancake batter on his nose... Laughing, he had heard Cullen chuckle, but not full on laughter.

”Dorian?”

Ah, here he was now. Dorian found himself flushing slightly, closed the magazine and followed him to the office.

”I'm glad to have you back”, Dr Rutherford said, gesturing for Dorian to have a seat.

”Yes well, thanks for the invite”, Dorian said, having a seat opposite the doctor.

”How have you been?”

It had been one week since the last appointment.

”I am running again.”

”That's great Dorian”, Dr Rutherford sounding genuinely excited, and his blue eyes gleaming. ”How's the sleep?”

”It's getting there I think”, he answered honestly. ”Still a bit of a struggle.”

”Some progress is better than no progress”, Rutherford said.

”You should put that on a t-shirt.”

Rutherford smiled.

”What do you want to talk about today?” He asked.

”Do I get to choose?”

”This is your time.”

”Really? Only for me? I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Rutherford blushed. _He blushed_! And cleared his throat.

”I'm sorry”, Dorian said realizing he was making the doctor uncomfortable. ”I shouldn't...”

But dr Rutherford merely shook his head, interrupting whatever Dorian had been about to say.

”You're in a good mood today”, he noted.

”Is it that noticable?” Dorian said though he knew it was, he'd been practically flirting just seconds before. ”Actually, I feel, almost like my old self. This shall be more entertaining for you, doctor. Get rid of the gloomy Dorian who does little else but to sob about his childhood.”

”That's a bit harsh on you, don't you think?”

”Harsh? How?”

”May I ask you something about your personal relationships?”

”Ask away.”

”You strike me as the kind of person who has a lot of friends, correct me if I'm wrong.”

”You're not.”

”Boyfriend?”

”No.”

”Do you date?”

”I wouldn't call it dating, per say. It's all very casual.”

”So no serious relationships then. No commitments.”

”No.”

”Why not?”

”I'm not really the kind.”

”How come?”

”You ask a lot of questions.”

”That's why I'm here. To hear your answers, to listen."

”I just don't...” Dorian trailed off. ”I don't have anything to offer, really. Other than temporary distraction.” Dorian swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit choked up. ”Way to kill my good mood, doctor.”

”And your friends, do you confide in them? Have you told them about your father's passing for example?”

”Ah, I see where this is heading. You think I shy away from intimacy, from true real friendships, from serious relationships, because I don't think I'm deserving. And this of course has all to do with my father because he never loved me, but I loved him and he hurt me all his life. And now he's dead and cannot ever reconcile with me, or apologize to me, and I'm left with my own closure, and there really is no closure, because what if my father was right, that I am completely unlovable? That I am a sinner, undeserving of good life, of friends, of true love?”

Dr Rutherford handed Dorian the tissuebox, again. Dorian hadn't even realized that he was crying, but now he was full on sobbing once more.

”Oh look at me go”, Dorian said through the sobs. ”I just cannot help myself, can I?”

”I think you nailed it”, Dr Rutherford said. ”Drawing the parallells to your father, but you are also absolutely incorrect about several things. There is closure for you, your father was not right. You are loveable. You're not a sinner. You deserve real friends, and real love.”

”And here I thought you were going to _stop_ my crying”, Dorian spluttered. 

Dr Rutherford smiled.

”Not all crying is bad.”


	5. The Fourth Appointment

**The Fourth Appointment**

”Why did you become a therapist?” He asked doctor Rutherford, after being quiet for a while, getting lost in his own thoughts and Rutherford, being so patient, had let him get lost.

Rutherford didn't seem surprised by the question. It was probably farily common. He rearranged his seating position, folding one leg over the other.

”I want to help, if I can”, he answered.

”I admire that”, Dorian said. ”I'm too selfish I think.”

”I'm sure that's not true”, Rutherford said. ”What do you do?”

”I'm a hair stylist at my own saloon.”

”In a way then, you are a therapist yourself.”

”Because just like bartenders, hairdressers and stylists, I get to listen to people venting their problems?”

”Don't you?”

”It's true there is quite a bit of that. I do have my regulars, and they become sort of friends. But that's where we are really different, isn't it? If I become friends with a customer, it is not frowned upon. Sometimes someone stays for a drink at the saloon, see my place is fancy like that, and we'll have a glass of wine.” Dorian mused away to times like those. Those were his favorite hours at the saloon. ”But, if you and I shared a bottle here it would get you in some trouble, I'm sure.”

Dr. Rutherford cleared his throat, awkwardly.

”Of course we would never do that”, Dorian added hastily. ”Forgive my rambling. I talk such nonsense.”

”No harm done.”

Dr Rutherford reached for his glass of water, with his left hand. Dorian couldn't help but to notice that his ring finger was bare. Not married then. Though he could have guessed that already considering the conversation he overheard last time. A dog. But no girlfriend?

"Last time we talked briefly about your personal relationships”, Dr Rutherford said.

”Yes, well that was a blubbering mess, wasn't it?”

”You never said though. Do you have friends you confide in? Does anyone know what you're going through at the moment?”

”No.”

”And your friends, you said they've noticed something is up?”

”They are a bit concerned. One of them, Bull, he even asked if it had something to do with my father. I mean, obviously he doesn't know the details, but I have on occasion, and drunk, mind you, ranted about him.”

”Is Bull someone you could confide in a bit more?”

Bull was a tough looking guy, missing one eye, towering over just about anyone, all muscles. He and Dorian had on occasion slept together, but that had ended because in Bull's opinion, it wasn't what Dorian needed, and he'd been right. Bull was caring and put others above himself. He is the one friend Dorian has that would physically hurt people who hurt his friends. If only Dorian had known Bull back in Tevinter... But that was useless thinking.

”I suppose. He's fiercely loyal. He looks out for his friends.”

”So why haven't you told him yet?”

”I don't want to be a bother.”

”Do friends confide in you?”

”Yes, all the time.”

”And when a friend comes to you with a problem, do you feel bothered?”

”Not at all.”

”So why would Bull feel bothered?”

Dorian knew Bull wouldn't be bothered. If anything he would be glad to have Dorian finally confide in him about something. He'd sometimes commented on how Dorian liked to keep friendships light and breezy and how that didn't really work out in the long run because sometimes life was neither light or breezy.

Dorian must have been quiet for some time, because Dr Rutherford spoke next.

”Do you think you deserve being listened to?” He asked.

”I don't think anyone would want me as a friend if I shared this.”

”Why?”

He didn't know what to say. What _was_ that feeling? Where did it come from? He'd said something last session about his father putting that in his head.

Dr Rutherford recalled the same thing.

”Last time you told me you'd loved your father, but he'd never loved you.”

”Yes.”

”Do you think it's possible you're applying that on your friendships as well? That you can love other people, but other people can't love you?”

”It sounds silly when you put it like that.”

”As a way of over-simplifying things, of course. Just toy with the idea. Has the way you treat your friendships anything to do with how your father treated you? You don't have to answer it right now, just think it over. See what you find.”

”Aren't you supposed to say my father loved me in his own way?” Dorian was only half-joking when he said this.

”That's what we want to believe when people hurt us. Only you know, Dorian.When did he show you kindness? Did anything he ever did or say make you feel loved?”

Dorian tried to remember.

”He used to look at me with pride, when I was younger. I think he loved me before he knew I was gay.”

”But what does that say? You are only deserving of love if you are the way someone else wants you to be? Is that love?”

” _What_ _is_ love?” Dorian asked, and even to his own ears it sounded so... Clueless. He laughed, embarrassed, but Dr Rutherford didn't laugh.

”When someone loves you _because_ you are you, I'd say. What do you think about that?”

”Well”, Dorian mused. ”Have you experienced that? Because to me that sounds absolutely foregin.”

”I am positively certain that there are plenty of people who love you, but maybe you're not accepting their love.”

”Because of my daddy issues.”

”Again, we're simplyfing things, but maybe.”

Sweet Maker, Dorian thought. I'm one of _those_.


	6. The Fifth Appointment

**The Fifth Appointment**

Dorian was close to cancelling his fifth session. He told himself he was doing much better, and truth is, he was, but why he wanted to cancel had more to do with the doctor himself. Dorian had read about patients crushing on their therapists. He understood how it could happen, because now it was sort of happening to him. But also that, being listened to. Talking about only yourself for an entire hour, what a rush, really. Not that Dorian was telling Cullen the kinds of things he would want a boyfriend to know... But then again, maybe he was. Maybe those were the things he would really love to be able to tell a boyfriend one day. Those were the most intimate things after all. Your greatest fears. Your childhood wounds. Your rejections. He had never told anyone of those things before, not in detail at least. And never without a layer of humour.

But he went anyways. He figured since he was fully aware of his crush on dr Rutherford, he could now see it for what it was. A crush. On his therapist. This happened to people all the time and the reasons for the crush made sense. That did not make it real though.

”How are you today, Dorian?” Dr Rutherford asked.

”You're wearing glasses”, he stated needlessly, he just felt like he should comment on the change, it would almost seem rude not to. Also, the doctor looked mighty cute like this.

Dr Rutherford corrected his glasses.

”Yes, well, I've run out of contacts.”

”I never noticed, you wearing contacts I mean.”

Dr Rutherford smiled.

”Are you sleeping any better?”

”Yes, as a matter of fact I am.”

”I'm glad to hear it. So, did you talk to Bull?”

This made Dorian a bit weepy again. He had talked to Bull. Bull had visited the saloon for a free shave and when he was lying there in the chair, and Dorian was applying shaving cream they had gotten to talking. Bull had asked if something had happened.

”And then I cried in his face”, Dorian recalled, embarrassed, but laughing as he told it to dr Rutherford. ”He was absolutely mortified, like I said, I never cry, well now I do obviously in scandalous proportions, but he's never seen me cry. He got up, still with shaving cream all over his face and then he...” And now Dorian goes from smiling to crying, as he so often seems to do these days. ”He, ah. He embraced me, so tightly.” Dorian had told Bull that his father had passed, his voice muffled by Bull's massive chest, and that's all he had to say, really.

”Because he's so massive I got his shaving cream all over my hair”, Dorian finished with a broken laugh. ”I had to shampoo twice.”

”You've got a real friend there. I'm glad.”

”Me too. Thank you for that, urging me to talk to him. I actually feel... Lighter somehow. He might join me at the funeral, even. If I decide to go.”

”When is the funeral?”

”Next weekend, but it's in Tevinter. So that complicates things. I think I might not go. It's quite far away, but more so because a lot of Tevinter society will be there, and in their eyes, I am still... Things haven't changed that much, I'm afraid.”

”That's shameful.”

”It is. Where are you from, if I may ask?”

”Honnleath, though I'd be surprised if you heard of it”

”I have in fact. It's a quaint little village, is it not?”

”It is. The poster city for country life. It's got an unfair reputation though. Some seem to think it's a conservative town, but it's far from it. People have always been very open minded and welcoming to people from all walks of life.”

”I wish I'd grown up there.”

”It's easy to wish for things to be different, but what would that be good for? Things are the way they are, but we can always change how we look at things, and we can always learn to accept and to not accept. Everything you've experienced in your life has turned you into the person you are today, and while you might at times think you are unloveable, you are not. You are a great friend and a warm person who's happened to have had an unfair upbringing.”

”You have to say those things because I pay you to”, Dorian said with a small smile.

”I can't very well deny that this is my job, but, I say what I want to, and I mean everything I choose to say. Trust me on that. Not everyone gets the speech.”

”The speech, ah.”

”Did it work? Just a little?”

”Perhaps a little”, Dorian admitted with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAnd, I'm taking a pause in updating. It's already written and done, but it's taking me a while to get all the chapters here (I am a grandmother at all things computer). To be continued asap!


	7. The Sixth Appointment

**The Sixth Appointment**

”I didn't go to the funeral. I stayed home and drank two bottles of wine on my own”, Dorian said.

”I've been meaning to ask you, how much do you drink?”

”I like wine, I do. Being from Tevinter and all, it's a terrible place in so many ways, but the wine has always been very nice. Nothing Fereldan can quite compare to it. Do I have a drinking problem? No. It's not common for me to drink two bottles of my own. And then Bull came over, and...” Bull had tucked him in, brought him water and pain killers and then in the morning he'd made him breakfast. ”He took care of me.”

”And the rest of the week? How's that been for you?”

”Good. Sleep's been alright. I'm thinking of getting a pet.” The last part sort of just slipped out of him. ”A dog perhaps?”

”Dogs are great company, and it's very therapeutic as well. If your lifestyle is fit for a dog, I'd say go for it, Dorian. It can be a great thing for you.”

”A furry friend”, Dorian mused. ”I wonder what breed I should get.”

”Heading over to the shelter might be a good idea. You might find your friend there. That's where I got my dog.” Dr Rutherford flushed slightly, for reasons Dorian wasn't quite sure. Perhaps he felt like he'd overshared?

”You have a dog?” Dorian feigned ignorance, though he'd overheard the conversation between the female colleague and the doctor some appointments before. ”What kind?”

”A Golden retriever.”

Dorian smiled.

”Ah.”

”Is that funny?”

”You know what they say, dogs resembling their owners...”

Dr Rutherford snorted, and Dorian was absolutely delighted by the sound. 

”Are you saying I look like a Golden retriever?” Rutherford asked.

”Well”, Dorian said, and then managed to stop himself from saying the rest out loud. _Golden retrievers are cute_.”

”Let's circle back, shall we?” Dr Rutherford said clearing his throat. ”So, a dog. Yes. I think that might be a good idea for you. Do you live alone? Yes, you do right, I think we've been over this before.”

Dr Rutherford was rambling, as endearing as it was to see, it also made Dorian regret his comment about dogs resembling their owners. Rutherford, who knew Dorian was gay, was now flustered, maybe thinking Dorian was coming onto him. Then again, Dorian couldn't very well deny his interest. What a mess.

”There will always be someone at home to greet you”, dr Rutherford concluded his rambling.

”I was thinking of bringing the dog to the saloon. So nothing that molts too much, I suppose.”

”That's a good idea. And your regulars, they are not allergic?”

”Not as far as I know. I should make sure they would be alright with it. Which shelter did you go to?”

”The one in town. I'll write down the adress for you.”

Dr Rutherford wrote something on a note, and for a moment, Dorian allowed himself to imagine it was his private phone number. _Oh, stop it Dorian! This is your therapist!_

”There.”

”Thank you.”

As Dorian left the session, he was glancing down at the note. Not so much fixating on the adress, other than the fact that dr Rutherford had adorable handwriting.


	8. The Seventh Appointment

**The Seventh Appointment**

Dr Rutherford looked like a child on Christmas eve when Dorian told him about the dog he'd picked out at the shelter. The dog, a small mut who didn't molt very much, had been quiet and subdued when Dorian had met her. The woman who ran the shelter, said shelter life had done this to the poor dog. She'd been so outgoing and happy when she'd arrived, but then after weeks of not getting adopted she'd closed off and was now losing her appetite. Of course, this could have been a shameless sale pitch. _Take her or she dies_ , but the little dog's story struck a chord with Dorian who'd been on a similar journey himself. She didn't have a name yet. Dorian could tell dr Rutherford was trying to come up with a name, not consciously, but he was tapping his pen a bit distractedly, and looked almost embarrassed when Dorian asked him what the options were.

”I'll leave that to you”, dr Rutherford said sheepishly, though Dorian remained fully convinced he had come up with a few suggestions. ”But that's great, Dorian. I think you're going to be good friends. Maybe she'll accompany you on your evening runs.”

”That will be hard, doctor. She has one leg.”

”What?”

”I'm kidding.” 

Dr Rutherford stifled a laugh.

”A terrible thing to joke about”, Dorian said. ”But you never know with shelter dogs. I have a bit of a bleeding heart these days, it may happen I'll go looking for another dog, someone way worse off than this one.”

”When do you get to bring her home?”

”Saturday.”

”So the dog life begins.”

”So it does. We should arrange a playdate with our dogs!”

”Yes”, Dr Rutherford agreed and then caught himself, at the same time Dorian did.

”No”, they both said. ”No, of course not.”

But then Dorian thought irritatedly, why not? Yes, dr Rutherford was his therapist, but they got along fine.

”Does it happen to you sometimes, that you become friends with your patients?” Dorian asked.

Though, honestly, Dorian had a bit more than a friendly interest in dr Rutherford, he was very cute! And kind. And caring. But, if he couldn't have him as a romantic interest, he could have him as a friend and then fantasize about him in secret... He'd had some straight friends before that he'd done this with, then of course, the friendship hadn't lasted very long. One could only lust after a straight man for a limited period of time until it was enough self torture.

Dorian knew what he was going to answer, and already felt the disappointment.

Dr Rutherford said no.

”I feel as if though my resentment is moving on towards her. Why did she never defend me?”

”Did your father ever act out towards her?”


	9. The Eighth Appointment

**The Eighth Appointment**

”What's happening to me?” Dorian said, subdued. ”This is not like me.”

”Grief can do that. Make us unrecognizable, even to ourselves.”

”I think the worst part is, now I know the funeral's been, and now that I know he's under ground... I feel relieved, but I also feel guilt about that. I never wished him dead.”

”It's no wonder you feel relief, he was an omnious presence in your life. You never knew when he might reach out again. And everytime he did it set you back in your life. Now it won't set you back anymore.”

”So, in a way my life is starting again.”

”Yes.”

”My mother wants to see me. She was hoping I would've come to the funeral, but when I didn't, she sent me letters. Several. And then phone calls. I don't know. She says she wants to reconnect, forget the past, she said."

”How do you feel about that?”

”I feel as if though my resentment is moving on towards her. Why did she never defend me?”

”Did your father ever act out towards her?”

”Not that I know of. If I knew that... Or if he... Physically abused her somehow, I would have an understanding, but I never saw him lay a finger on her.”

”Granted, you don't know what went on in their private room.”

”True”, Dorian agreed. ”Tell me, how does a therapist handle his personal relationships?”

”Like anyone else”, dr Rutherford replied.

”Do _you_ see a therapist?”

”A bit of a personal question, Dorian”, Dr Rutherford said gently.

”Do you ever share something about yourself during sessions?”

”If it's relevant.”

”Anything relevant you might share with the class?”

”Dorian.” Dr Rutherford looked at him with half a smile, but it was sad.

”I am sorry, but I can't truly apologize for finding you interesting.”

”Interesting how?” Rutherford tapped his pen on his pad.

”For starters, you're not married.”

Dr Rutherford stopped tapping the pen, looked a bit guarded and Dorian tried to make himself stand back. Don't push _. Just stop talking._

”How do you know I'm not married?” dr Rutherford asked.

”No ring on that finger, sir”, Dorian said and hated himself for it.

”Some married people don't wear rings”, dr Rutherford said.

”So, you _are_ married.”

”I am not.”

” _Ha_!”

Dr Rutherford smiled just slightly.

”I've never been a good liar”, he admitted.

”Bless you, darling.” For a moment their eyes locked, and Dorian interpreted it as interest, feeling butterflies in his stomach at the thought, but then the doctor looked down at his notes and he'd realized he'd crossed a line.

”It appears”, dr Rutherford said. ”That we've run out of time.”

Dorian noticed the time .They had even gone twenty minutes over.

”Good thing I don't have anyone right after you”, Rutherford said. ”But now we really need to end for today.”

2


	10. The Last Appointment

**The Last Appointment**

Dorian knew what was going to happen before dr Rutherford started talking. He could sense it in the atmosphere. It was heavy and odd. And dr Rutherford was fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Something Dorian had never seen him do.

”I can see that the boundaries between us are...” He stopped to clear his throat. ”They have become a bit blurred. This is going in a direction where my professionalism if being compromised and that's not fair to you as a patient.”

Dr Rutherford was giving the break-up speech, but in way more complicated and fancy wording than Dorian was used to. But he did recognize it, and he felt his heart sink in his chest.

”Why don't you let me decide that?” Dorian said though he knew the decision had already been made.

Dr Rutherford smiled sadly.

”That would be unethical.”

Dorian thought he was going to cry again, but managed to breathe it away. Levelling out, as he exhaled.

”So what happens now?”

”I can recommend you another therapist. My collegue Lelianawould be a good fit. I think you'd find her very empathic.”

Dorian was looking down at the floor, and to his surprise, felt dr Rutherford's hand on his shoulder. He was leaning in.

”Please don't think I'm abandoning you, Dorian”, he said.

But he was, wasn't he? He pulled away, sitting up straight again.

”Professionalism is the most important thing in this field of work”, he said. ”And if it's being compromised in anyway I have to take responsibilty for it. You deserve to get the right help and Leliana can help you with that.”

”Well I do trust your judgement”, Dorian nodded.

”Do you want to see her? I can set up an appointment.”

”I'll have to think about it”, Dorian said, though he knew he wasn't going to see Leliana.

”Of course.”

Dorian attempted to smile.

”On a more happy note you'd be glad to hear that I picked up my dog.”

Dr Rutherford smiled, but looked a bit sad.

”Do you think we could arrange a playdate sometime? Further down the road?” Dorian tried, even though he knew it had ended here.

”You might find you don't need me after a while”, Dr Rutherford said gently. ”Leliana will give you full support, I am sure of it.”

”Thank you.”

Dr Rutherford stood up.

”I'm so sorry, Dorian, but please remember how far you've come and don't stop the process.”

”Thank you”, Dorian repeated, numbly.

*

Dorian hadn't planned on calling Leliana, but then he'd thought about it from dr Rutherford's point of view. Of course he didn't want to start a friendship with Dorian if he wasn't seeing a therapist. Dr Rutherford would maybe find himself giving free therapy. Maybe he feared Dorian would become truly dependent on him as a friend, but still as a therapist, sort of. So, he should see Leliana, just so he and dr Rutherford could have a chance at being friends. So he set up an appointment with Leliana, and was then surprised that dr Rutherford had been right. Dorian did like Leliana and found that now that the sessions were back on track, this time without lusting for his therapist, they were helping him move forward.

And though he wanted to ask about dr Rutherford, he stopped himself every time. This happens, he'd googled it. There were more people out there who'd taken a liking to their therapist, and a lot of them had realized it for what it was: someone hearing you out, trusting someone for the first time. All of that could make any starving soul hunger for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the end..


	11. First Meeting

**First meeting**

It's quite a chilly day, and Dorian gets dressed for being outside. A big warm scarf, his fall coat, stylish leather gloves, and a decent pair of boots. He's still getting used to being an outdoorsy kind of person. Sure, he liked his runs before, but now that he has Daisy, yes a bit of a cliche of a name, but it suits her, he's taking long walks as well, and he found that he actually needs warm enough clothes for that. Though he still refuses to wear a hat or beanie as that would mess up his hair. He's walking Daisy in the park, humming to himself only interrupting the tunes to chat to Daisy about interesting finds ( _that is a beautiful leaf, yes Daisy darling, taste it! What does it taste like? Leaf? Surprise! Oh no thanks, I'm full”_ (Yes he has truly become a dog person), and suddenly he stops, noticing a familiar face. Dr Rutherford.

He's not wearing a hat either, his hair tousled by the wind, though he's dressed in a warm looking coat and big old boots, well-loved as his leather shoes, a scarf just as big as Dorian's, and _mittens_! Mittens. Dorian tries not to laugh at that, but it's so endearing.

But what does he do now? Should he say hello? Or pretend he hasn't noticed him. He might think Dorian is out stalking him, but surely... Four months. He wouldn't think that would he? Then again Dorian might have been a successful stalker, only getting found out just now. Dorian doesn't have to think for long though, because dr Rutherford calls out a surprised and happily sounding ” _Dorian_!” And then sparing Dorian the response, he immediately kneels down to greet a very enthusiastic Daisy who, manners forgotten, is trying to lick the doctors face, all the while he's laughing.

”She's a happy one, isn't she?”

”Yes”, Dorian says, tonelessly, and feels embarrassed. ”I didn't know you walked your dog here.” He manages to get out, noticing that the doctor's dog is very obediently sitting right next to his owner, as if politely waiting for permission to say hello.

”We come out here quite a bit, don't we Cass?” Rutherford says to his dog. ”Do you want to walk together?” He asks, and Dorian agrees.

They start walking, side by side, as the dogs stretch out without their leashes.

”You look good”, Dr Rutherford says smiling.

”You too, doctor.”

”You may call me 'Cullen' now.”

”First name basis, that went quick!”

Cullen laughs.

”Thank you for Leliana, by the way. You were right. We are a good fit.”

”I'm glad to hear it”, he says. ”She's a sweetheart, your dog”, Cullen says as they watch the dogs run around, meters ahead of them.

”She is. She's come out of her shell finally. You were right about getting a dog, it was a good idea. She sleeps in my bed, and when I awake at night, I feel her fur with my feet and it's very... It feels safe, and comforting, as silly as it sounds.”

”I know what you mean. I can't tell you how many miserable nights Cass has helped me through.”

”Miserable nights? Has Dr Rutherford had miserable nights? I don't believe it!”

Cullen smiles.

”I've had her for a long time. Cass is really old. I got her as a pup.”

”How old is she?”

”She's twelve. I'm getting a bit worried actually, thinking about...”

”Ah.”

They walk in quiet for a while, just the wind rustling through the trees, and Cass barking excitedly at Daisy.

”So you got her twelve years ago. Tell me, what was Cullen back then like?” Dorian eyes him from the side, and sees the thoughtful expression on Cullen's face. He has a scar across his lip, Dorian hasn't noticed it before. How could he have missed it? It's quite apparent and it suits him.

”He was a bit troubled, as we all are in that age.”

”How old are you if I may ask?”

”Thirty-nine.”

”The big fourty coming up.”

”Don't remind me.”

Just then a harsh wind goes through them.

”It's getting a bit cold”, Cullen says. ”If you don't have any plans, perhaps you'd like to head back to my place? It's about fifteen minutes straight ahead.”

”Sounds marvellous.”

Cullen's house is beautifully situated in the heights, overlooking the lake and the park. The garden is like a dream, even in autumn, full of orange and red flowers.

His kitchen is country chic, and Dorian is ashamed to admit it, but he was expecting Cullen's house to be more of a bachelor's house, but this is actually very tasteful and nicely decorated. Clearly a loved house decorated by a man who truly wanted a house. Cullen makes them hot cocoa and the dogs get food and water. They sit down on the glassed porch, and Cullen puts on the heat lamps for warmth. They both sit down in the sofa, blankets and all, fingers around their hot cups, complete with whipped cream and three marshallows on top.

”Your house is lovely”, Dorian says, almost feeling like a prop where he sits.

”Thank you.”

”Do you live on your own?” He asks.

”Yes. I always liked the idea of waiting until you have found something to share it all with, but in the end, you have to go for what you want and trust that everything else will follow.”

”Namaste”, Dorian says, raising his cup in a toast.

Cullen laughs, but raises his cup in response.

”You've been unlucky in love?” Dorian pries.

”I just haven't found the one”, Cullen answers diplomatically. ”But I believe there's someone for everyone.”

”You're a romantic”, Dorian says, almost sighing, reaching out to pet Daisy who is down by his feet.

Cullen puts his hand over his heart.

”I confess.”

Oh _kaffas_ , the man needs to stop being so dreamy and unavailable. Besides, what did he put in these hot chocolates? Dorian almost feels drunk.

Cullen puts away his cup, and Dorian does the same, as he snuggles up in the blanket some more.

”Still cold?” Cullen says.

”I get cold very easily.”

”We're different then”, Cullen says lightly. ”I'm always too warm.”

Dorian blushes. His mind goes instantly to bed-sharing. What a winning combination they could make. One can always dream.

It's late afternoon, Cullen and Cass join Dorian and Daisy on their way back to the city, and at the entrance of the park, they come to a halt.

”This is where our ways part”, Dorian says. ”Thank you for today Cullen, it's been lovely. And thank you for inviting me to your precious house.”

”Do you want to make this a regular thing? We could have playdates on Saturdays?”

The suggestion is surprising, but not unpleasing.

”That sounds like a splendid idea.”

Dorian doesn't know how they are supposed to say goodbye. A wave? A handshake? A half hug?

Cullen takes charge, raising his hand in a wave. _Oh._ But of course, what else? Dorian is merely dreaming away.

”We'll talk soon then”, Cullen says.

”Yes. Alright.”

”Bye Dorian”, Cullen says and then turns to his dog. ”Let's go Cass.”

Dorian watches them leave, his heart hammering slightly in his chest. He should be honest with the doctor, with Cullen, tell him, this might not be a good idea after all.


	12. Second Meeting

**Second Meeting**

Dorian has the speech prepared. _I'm sorry Cullen, but I've gotten myself in these kind of situations before. Falling for a straight man, settling for being his friend and pining away... It's not good, and it's a waste of time for both of us._

Though the words stay unspoken, they meet in the park and they head back to Cullen's house again for some lunch and hot cocoa. They sit in the sofa again, talking about how Cullen went about buying his house, all the while Dorian is trying to be brave, to say the words he needs to say.

”I lived in an apartment for so long”, Cullen says. ”It just made me miss living in a house, but we're all different. My ex was a city man and couldn't quite understand the longing for your own little plot.”

And just like that, the conversation takes an interesting turn. _My ex was a city MAN_. The words make Dorian zoon out. There can be no misunderstanding there.

”I always fancied the idea of a house myself”, Dorian says sounding oddly detached, while his thoughts are going crazy. There is really no reason for Cullen to even mention his ex, nevertheless the ex being a man, if he's not trying to tell him something, is there? Or is Dorian just being presumptuous? He manages to snap out of his thoughts, intent on investigating if there could be an interest here.

”You have an apartment, yes?” Cullen says.

”Mm.” Dorian says absentmindedly.

”Close to your salon?”

”Ten minutes away”, he answers and then looks at Cullen, feeling slightly bold. ”You're due for a haircut, aren't you?”

”Dying to get your hands on my hair, are you?” Cullen's voice has a joking tone to it.

”Well, being my friend has its benefits”, Dorian says lightly. ”Free haircuts are one of them. May I touch your hair? It looks like it's great quality from here.”

”Do your worst”, Cullen says, tilting his head slightly and then Dorian is running his fingers through Cullen's marvelous hair.

”Thank you”, Cullen says when he's done. ”Now, may I touch yours?”

Dorian laughs loudly, surprised and amused and thrilled all at once.

”No!” He exclaims, as if Cullen has suggested something scandalous.

”Because it's all styled?”

”Yes! It most certainly is. We can't all run around like cavemen.”

Cullen squints at him.

”Are you calling me a caveman?”

”There is something feral about you, I think.”

 _Oh_ , but they are definitely flirting. 

”Am I never allowed to touch your hair?”

”Why do you want to touch my hair?” Dorian asks, and he can hear his own voice, how he sounds like he's fifteen. _Just stop. Stop!_ But he can't, and Cullen is doing nothing to help the situation.

”I want to mess it up", Cullen says with a mischievous glint in his eyes Dorian can't bare. "I mean, it looks great.”

”Obviously.”

”But, I want to see you without the styling. And I want to see you without make-up.”

”Those are some demands.”

”Are you always this well put together, or would your boyfriend ever see you without make-up in the morning, your hair all messy?”

”You sound interested to find out”, Dorian says boldly.

Cullen smiles.

”Oh, definitely", he says casually, like they're talking about the weather.

Dorian is suprised. He wasn't expecting... He looks away, flushing. Suddenly he doesn't know what to do. He fiddles with one of his rings, trying to calm his racing heart and hopes. Tries to remind himself about how many times he's been in this situation before. Why would Cullen be any different, really? All men like to play with feelings, straight or gay - it doesn't matter. They play men and women alike. They've certainly played Dorian.

But, he thinks, this is Cullen. Dr Rutherford. He is a good person, Dorian's sure of it. But then again he doesn't really know him, the man was his therapist for Andraste's sake! The bizarreness of the situation hits him and he feels the need to leave urgently.

”I'm sorry”, Cullen says suddenly. ”I've made you uncomfortable.”

”No no”, Dorian says hastily. ”I'm just, you surprised me, that's all. Just give it a moment. I wasn't expecting... Whatever this is.” He looks at Cullen. "What is this?" He asks.

Cullen is quiet for some time. 

”I'm not going to push for anything”, Cullen finally says, petting Cass who's slumbering at his feet. "And I'm very aware of how we met, but I find I can't, I mean, I want to get to know you better, Dorian. If you'd let me." He looks at him now, trying to gauge his reaction. 

Dorian is still reeling. What could the doctor have possibly seen during those sessions that appealed to him? Is he drawn to blubbering messes? 

"Have you done this before?" Dorian asks warily. "I mean..." He searches for the right wording.

"Asking an ex patient out on a date?" Cullen fills in. "No. Never. I would never. I mean, I shouldn't really."

"But you're asking me out?" Dorian clarifies.

"Yes", Cullen says, his gaze softening.

Dorian swallows hard.

”Yes”, he manages to say. ”I'd love to go on a date.”

And then, that's that. Dorian leaves Cullen's house, having just received a quick hug. He's feeling quite... Confused.


	13. The Date

**The date**

It's not until Dorian is on his third glass of wine that he notices that Cullen is not drinking. He's been too nervous up until now, but it is just fizzy water in Cullen's glass, and he's suddenly scared he's making a bit of a fool of himself. He asks for some water, and Cullen nudges his foot under the table, asks him if he's alright.

”I've never been on a proper date before”, Dorian confesses.

”It's nothing to be nervous about”, Cullen assures him. ”It's just me. I'm just a person.”

Only he's not, is he? Dorian thinks the doctor is quite amazing, and he is way out of Dorian's league. They have dessert, and then go for a walk. Cullen offers a cup of tea in his house, again wrapping Dorian in a blanket on the porch now heated up by those expensive heat lamps,, and while it's not quite what Dorian expected he's ready to work with this too. So when Cullen sits down next to him, Dorian makes the move. He pulls Cullen down to him, giving him a chance to back away before he gently presses his lips to his. Cullen nudges his lips open, and Dorian lets him in. It's a sweet kiss, a great kiss even, and Dorian is simultaneously confused and excited. Cullen rounds up their kiss, but then placing several feather light kisses on Dorian's cheeks, his forehead, his nose, then holding him close. Dorian can feel Cullen's heart beating and feels his excitement pressing against his own. _Definitely_ gay. How did he miss this?

”Either you pull away or we keep going. I can't stand this, as nice as it is”, Dorian says into Cullen's ear and nibles playfully on his ear lobe.

”I want to go slow with you”, Cullen says.

”You're dazed, you don't know what you're saying.”

Cullen shakes with laughter.

”No, really. This is...” Cullen pulls away. ”This is great”, he says. ”But I mean it. I think we should slow down.”

”Why did you take me to your house?”

”For some tea.”

”Literally? _Tea_?! I thought it was code.”

Cullen laughs again.

”I really, really like you Dorian, and I want do treat you right. Will you let me treat you right?”

”Fine”, he says more sullenly than he intends to. ”I mean, yes.”

”Thank you. Now, your tea is going cold. Tell me more about this salon of yours. I don't think we ever got into it."

He hands Dorian the cup with an expectant look on his face.

_Well, this is different_ , Dorian thinks, but nevertheless obliges.

”I got it four years ago”, he starts, still feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Or was it five? No no, four years ago..."

*

He wakes up in Cullen's bed, with a bit of a headache. They ended up drinking tea quite late, but it was the wine from before that is now punishing him.

”You don't happen to have any painkillers do you?” Dorian asks when Cullen appears in the doorway, holding two cups. The smell of coffee makes Dorian perk up slightly.

”I'm sorry", Cullen answers. "I don't keep any in my house.” He hands one of the cups to Dorian. "You weren't kidding. You really do sleep with your make-up on."

Dorian smiles. 

"But the hair..." Cullen says, looking quite smug. "Is a bit messy."

"Watch it", Dorian says lightly, having a sip of coffee. _Heaven_. 

Cullen lies down on the bed, next to Dorian, one hand under his head, the other holding his cup. He looks adorably sleepy, no wonder considering they spent most of the night lying in bed talking and kissing. Dorian can't remember ever feeling so relaxed and at the same time excited with anyone.

Then he thinks about dinner, how he'd been on the wine by himself. "You don't drink?” He asks Cullen, not knowing why he didn't touch on the subject in the night.

Cullen shakes his head response.

"You should've told me before dinner. I would have had water too", Dorian says, feeling a bit like a fool again.

"That's alright", Cullen says. "It's just not an option for me." He goes quiet, looking up at the ceiling. "I contemplated... I don't know how you'd react. It's never an easy conversation.” He looks briefly at Dorian as if gauging his reaction for something he hasn't yet revealed.

”Try me", Dorian says, easing himself up on his elbow, putting away his coffee cup on the night stand.

”I was a drug addict", Cullen says.

”Okay", Dorian says warily. "Tell me more.”

”Alcohol is a gateway drug for me. Before I know it I'll be running around the dodgy parts of town trying to score.” Cullen says it all quickly, then smiles without it reaching his eyes. "It's never easy to say that no matter how many times I've said it before. It's important though and something you have a right to know. I should have told you yesterday."

That's a lot to take in. Dorian is silent for a few seconds.

”What are you thinking?” Cullen asks, and now he looks a bit concerned.

”We all have our baggage”, he says finally, because that is more or less what he's thinking. ”And I'm sorry you went through that.”

”You're not disgusted? Or discouraged?"

”Disgusted? Why on earth would I be disgusted?”

”That would be a deal breaker for some, and rightly so."

”Why?” Dorian asks, though he can imagine why, he just wants to show Cullen that it is not a deal breaker for him. Not that he would necessarily _prefer_ to date an ex drug addict, but rather that he likes Cullen, and if this is a part of Cullen, then it is what is and Dorian will take all of him.

”The possibility of relapse", Cullen says. "No one wants to go through that. I mean, I don't ask or need anyone to not drink alcohol around me these days, but a lot of people feel like they have to change because of me not drinking. They start behaving weirdly.”

”I'm sorry to hear that, darling.” He caresses the side of Cullen's face. His eyes are a bit shiny now.

”I did hard drugs”, Cullen says.

”Like what?”

”Lyrium.”

”And you quit _that_?”

”Yes.”

”That is some feat. Good on you, Cullen. I've heard it's nearly impossible.”

”Why are you not having a bigger reaction to this?” Cullen looks intrigued.

”I can't give you a reaction if I don't feel it. I'm a crap actor, darling. If anything I am impressed and admire you for your strength.”

”I can't decide if you're playing it cool or if you genuinely don't think this is a problem. I'd have all the understanding in the world if you feel the need to process this."

”And here I was thinking you had it all together, being a therapist and all", Dorian can't help but to say.

”Common mistake. Therapists are usually the most messed up people.”

”I'm still processing that you're gay", Dorian says, trying to make light of the conversation for now. "Nevertheless that you are interested in me.”

”Even now?" Cullen asks, gesturing to them lying side by side in bed, albeit fully clothed, but wrinkly after a night of talking and cuddling.

"Yes, prove it to me."

Cullen laughs, puts away his coffee cup and leans in for a kiss that tastes like coffee. An effortless and casual display of affection, that makes Dorian melt a little, and snuggle into Cullen's embrace.


	14. The First Year

**The First Year**

”Can I come over?”

Cullen glances at his alarm stand, Cass has lifted her head, looking at him in the dark. It's one-thirty in the middle of the night.

”I'm not drunk”, Dorian adds, as if he thinks that's what Cullen's about to ask.

It's not.

”Where are you?”

”I'm outside your door.”

Cullen sits up, rubs the sleep from his eyes.

*

”Do you still have your key?” Cullen asks in bed, arms around Dorian in the dark.

”You think I lost it?”

”You don't use it.” Cullen chooses his words carefully.

”Am I supposed to just wander in when you're sleeping? Have you wake up by someone entering your bedroom?”

”Not someone”, he says gently. ”You. And yes, I'd like that. It would be the best way to wake up.”

Dorian is quiet for a few moments and when he speaks again, there's a slight tremble to his voice.

”It could be a burglar or a kidnapper. You might get frightened.”

Cullen is quiet, putting the pieces together. Dorian has made mentions like these before, a lot more recently.

”I think that might be what _you're_ afraid of”, he says warily. Not daring to say exactly what he means, though he thinks Dorian knows.

”Well I'm glad the doctor could finally join us.”

Cullen pulls away from Dorian, who sits up straight at the same time Cullen does.

”Where are you going?”

Cullen smiles in spite of it all, because now that his eyes have gotten used to the dark, he can see Dorian's hair is a mess. Even though he's seen it like this several times, it still makes him smile because of how easy it is to tease Dorian about it. It really is a pet peeve of his, not looking perfectly put together at all times.

”We are not arguing in bed" Cullen says. "We're going downstairs to drink tea and talk this over.”

”Why not have at it here?" Dorian says, his voice restrained, he wants to raise it, Cullen can tell, but he doesn't, instead speaking quickly in an almost whisper. "Tell me what you really feel, that you're getting sick of me, that I am too much for you and that you want your key back.”

But Cullen is already heading downstairs.

”Well it's been good knowing you!” He hears Dorian call.

”What kind of tea do you want?” He calls out in response, putting the kettle on.

”Nothing!” Comes from upstairs.

Peppermint it is. After a while he hears the creaking of the stairs, but it's too late and too pawy, yes, it's Cass, followed by a grumpy looking Daisy who arrived with Dorian. He waits for the heavier steps, and hears them after a minute or two. Dorian has a seat by the kitchen isle, Cullen can feel his eyes on him as he makes the tea.

”At this point you're probably thinking, why does he keep coming back then? If he is so useless, if he can't process shit and thugs apparently kidnapped him in the middle of the night and had him beaten, only to realize, he might not ever tell you the full story because there's definitely more to it and it's not pretty. The question is...” Dorian stops, and now Cullen shoots him a glance. ”Can our therapist be happy about perhaps never knowing?”

”Why do you keep coming back then?” Cullen asks in return.

”I can't seem to stay away.”

”You may not have told me exactly what happened to you, but I'm not stupid.”

Dorian raises his eyebrows.

”You sometimes whimper in your sleep, tossing and turning.”

”Watching me while I sleep are you?”

”And you don't use your key, instead calling ahead all the time.”

”A polite thing to do.”

”But you're doing it for the wrong reasons. You're still suffering from what your father and those men did to you, and I'm sorry if that's the doctor talking to you. But it's also just me, telling you what I see. Look. Is this something you want? You and me? Or are you just looking for a way out? Because if that's what you want, I'll give it to you. Not because I'd want that, I don't, but you need to sort this out. Do you want to be with me?"

Dorian is quiet for a few moments.

”Yes.”

”Are you sure? Be honest with me.”

”Yes, but can you handle it? You have your own... Life issues. I don't want to be one of them.”

Cullen is sitting down now, his hands over Dorian's.

”How many times have I told you that I want you?”

”More than I can count."

”And I'll never stop.” He gives Dorian's hands a squeeze, leaning in for a kiss.

”I will use my key”, Dorian says finally.

Cullen looks up and Dorian is up and moving, rounds the kitchen isle and then makes Cullen turn around, facing him.

”If it means anything to you, I will tell you about that night. But not now. Can we please go back to bed?”

”You know sex isn't the answer to everything.” Another thing they have to discuss, as Dorian seems to think everything is always leading to sex. Especially after they'd had a serious talk.

”To sleep, you horndog", Dorian says.

Cullen laughs.


	15. Conversations In The Night

**Conversations in The Night**

”You don't want me anymore.”

”Because I don't want to have sex right now?"

”This is the beginning of the end, I fear.”

”You don't think you're being slightly dramatic.”

”He has a headache, he says.”

”Sometimes I'm just happy to lie here with you.”

”Why?”

”It's called cuddling, Dorian.”

”I don't like it.”

”You always say that, and yet you always let me hold you."

”Yeah, yeah.”


End file.
